


Somewhere Other Than The Night

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 10:20:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/797317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim never says thank you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Somewhere Other Than The Night

## Somewhere Other Than The Night

#### by OCONN

  
  
  
  
This story is a sequel to: 

* * *

Not mine, big surprise there. No money...don't have any, won't make any. I don't mean to step on any toes, just trying to get Jim to wake up. Borrowed some words from Garth, too. 

First appeared in Whispers Of The Heart 2 

Warnings: NC-17. POV shifts. 

Summary: Ever wonder what would happen if one day Jim realized that he never says thank you or I'm sorry? 

Note: I've never been to the loft set so my layout of the place is gathered from the ep "Warriors." Please excuse any liberties I may have taken in this regard. Comments, suggestions welcome. 

Somewhere Other Than The Night  
by OCONN 

We lay entwined together. Just like last night. And the night before. And nearly every other night for the past five years. 

God, how I love the feeling of him in my arms. I think this is probably the only time and place and space where I am truly at peace. Is it possible for a person to embody that feeling? He does. He makes the world go away when it wants so badly to obliterate me at every turn. He keeps it at bay and lets me sleep. Blair guards me. 

* * *

We lay entwined together. Just like last night. And the night before. And nearly every other night for the past five years. 

These are the times when I feel truly powerful. The times when I'm certain I'm alive and cherished and respected. The times when what I feel and desire and need are noticed. I love Jim. With all my heart. But in the light, away from the dark, warm, safety of our bed, he doesn't seem to notice. 

* * *

I look at the clock impatiently and curse under my breath. We're going to be late. Again. Why can't he be ready when he's supposed to? I hate being late. Well, honestly, I hate the looks aimed my way when I step off the elevator into the bullpen and we're twenty minutes late. It's like everyone's thinking they know why we're late and they smirk. 

"Come on, Sandburg. Get in the truck or I'm leaving without you!" 

* * *

I look at the clock sadly and curse under my breath. We're going to be late. Again. He hates being late. Well, so do I. Really. But sometimes there are more important things. Today it was a zone out while he was tying his shoes. Took ten minutes to pull him out of that one. I stand up and dump my half finished breakfast in the trash. I can grab something later. No big deal. Really. 

* * *

Jim looked at the envelope lying atop his mail. It looked like a wedding invitation. He couldn't think of anyone he knew who was getting married. It was addressed to Detective James Ellison. Yup. Formal. Nope. Not interested. He tossed the envelope aside and turned on his computer. 

Across the room, as he watched from behind another monitor, Blair's heart sank. He swallowed the hurt. Jim didn't even know it was from him. He's not throwing you aside, just the invitation. Try again another time. 

"Ellison!" The detective looked up in the direction of Simon's voice and groaned when he saw the look on his Captain's face. Now what? 

"We just got a call from Harbor Patrol. They may have a lead on the trawler murders. Go check it out." 

"Yes, sir," he responded tiredly, rubbing hard at the back of his neck. "Let's go, Sandburg." Jim handed Blair his backpack and led him out toward the elevator. Jim never seemed to question why Blair was always there, why he appeared at his side out of nowhere. It was just the way his world worked. Jim needed, Blair responded. End of story. 

* * *

They rode to the harbor in silence, Blair listening to Jim's tired sighs while stifling his own. He reached out and took Jim's hand, squeezing gently. 

"Are you all right, love?" 

Jim squeezed his hand and smiled. "Yeah. I'm fine." 

"You don't seem fine. Talk to me." 

"I have a headache that just won't quit. I've tried breathing, relaxing, and even dialing it down. It's been going on for two days now and it's wearing me down." 

"OK, I've got something that might help. Pull over." 

As usual, he got the expected `I really don't have time for any of your stunts' look and Blair shielded himself again. This is about Jim, not me. Handle it, Blair. 

"Come on, Jim. Let me try. Maybe I can help." 

Jim swallowed his reply as a sharp pain shot through his skull. When the pain receded, he found Blair rubbing deeply on the back of his neck. His face was filled with worry. 

"Pull over, Jim. Now." 

"Yeah, maybe that would be a good idea." He pulled over to the curb and shut off the engine. 

"OK, Darwin. I'm all ears." 

"All right, just hold your head straight. OK, good. Now close your eyes and breathe. But when you breathe out, push the pain out with your breath. Force the muscles to relax. Good, keep going. Push it out until there's nothing left." 

When he opened his eyes a few minutes later they were clear. The pain was gone. 

"Ah, yeah. It's gone. Put your seat belt back on, Chief," he ordered as he started the truck and pulled back into traffic. 

Jim missed the pain that flashed across his partner's face. 

* * *

"Well, that was a waste," Jim spat as they reached his desk and he flopped in the chair. "Another wild goose chase filled with irritating scum bags and useless witnesses who never seem to see anything. What a day. You know, I should've stayed in bed." He gathered the `witness' reports and tossed them to his partner for typing. 

"Hey Jim?" Blair ventured, automatically retrieving the papers. 

Ellison stretched and stood. "Not now, Chief. I quit for the day," he said. 

Blair looked up at his lover with hurt in his eyes, but the guy just didn't notice, something that had been happening all too often lately. He'd only wanted to ask how his headache was, if the new breathing technique he had shown him that morning had kept it away. But he was too tired to fight it... maybe he needed a break. He looked at the clock. 2:30. Maybe he could catch Chris before she left for the day. She always had a sympathetic ear and some helpful advice. 

"Jim, would you mind dropping me at my office before you head home? I really need to check up on a few things there before I meet with my study group tomorrow." 

Ellison looked up curiously at Blair, then sighed. "Yeah, OK. But can you catch a ride home? I'm really beat and I'd love to have a hot shower and just crawl into bed." 

"Sure man, no problem." If I even bother coming home tonight. Not that you'd notice...well, not until bed time. OK Sandburg, that was way low, even for you. "I'll meet you in the truck." 

Jim watched as the elevator doors closed and then turned to gather his things. A thought flashed into his mind that something seemed to be bothering Blair and maybe he should ask about it, but right now he just wanted to sleep for a week. He was reaching over his desk to get the coffee cup he wanted to take back to the break room and clean when he noticed the invitation. Curious, he picked it up and opened it. Inside, in beautifully written script, were words that tore at his heart: 
    
    
            Mr. Blair Sandburg Requests The Honor Of Your Presence.
                    Thursday, May 14th at 7:00 p.m.
                        852 Prospect, Apt. 307
    
                         Come And Be Loved
    

In his own handwriting, Blair had written: I miss you. Love, Blair. 

Oh my god. The meaning slammed into him full force. Blair? He pocketed the invitation and went after his guide. 

When he arrive at the truck, Blair was busy with his notes. He didn't acknowledge Jim's presence and in the ensuing quiet drive to the university, Jim didn't know what to say. What could he say that would make it better? He wanted to say I love you, but somehow he didn't think that was enough. He thought about it until he pulled up outside Hargrove hall, then decided to say it anyway. 

"Blair?" he said almost inaudibly, reaching out to take one of the soft curls of his lover's hair in his fingers. 

He didn't look up, but Jim continued anyway. "I love you, Blair." 

The pen still momentarily, but that was the only reaction. 

"I really do, baby." 

"Thanks, Jim. I love you, too." 

The blue eyes looked up finally and what he saw there made his heart jump. The need that was there, the need for his acceptance, for his approval, for his attention... God, what an idiot I've been! An idea suddenly exploded in his mind, one that just might give Blair back some of what he'd given all these years. 

"Jim?" 

When he heard the concern in his lover's voice, Jim realized that he must look like he'd zoned. 

"Hey love, are you sure you're OK? I can stay home tonight. If you want." 

The hesitant hope in Blair's voice almost made him cave, but he steeled himself against the hurt he was about to inflict. Just this one last time, he thought and then he prayed to everyone who would listen that it wouldn't be one time too many. 

"No, that's OK. I just need some down time, you know, by myself. But call me if you can't get a ride." 

"Yeah. Sure, Jim. But don't worry, I'll be fine." 

Blair looked defeated as he leaned over and kissed his lover. It was desperate, and Jim wished he could follow through right here, but that would only be a temporary fix. This needed to be much more than temporary. 

When Blair got out and closed the door Jim drove away into the afternoon, Sentinel eyesight focused on the tears streaming down his lover's face. They ran in tandem with his own. 

* * *

Two hours ago, he passed the worried mark. One hour ago, he'd forced himself to   
put his keys back in the basket to keep from going after Blair. It was almost   
three in the morning when Jim finally heard his car pull up outside.

He quickly moved about the loft and lit the candles. He turned off the lights and turned on the stereo, loading the haunting Celtic CD which had been recommended at Sandburg's favorite shop, Stargazers. With a satisfied glance around the loft and a final prayer, he set the last candle on the floor and stepped into the shadows to wait. 

* * *

When he opened the door, Blair couldn't believe his eyes. Or his ears. Or his nose. 

Everywhere he looked were tiny, pale blue candles. They covered the coffee table and the island, the counters and the TV. They were placed all around the edge of the loft, following the line of the baseboards and up the stairs. 

Through the glow of the soft light, he heard the music. It was new, something Celtic, but definitely not his. It wove its way through the heavy air, almost literally lifting his spirits. 

The air smelled of roses, like a florist, only Blair didn't see any flowers. He leaned in close to one of the candles to smell it, but it was unscented. Odd. But before he had a chance to get any further on that puzzle, he saw movement in the shadows.   
"Jim?" 

There was no answer, so he cautiously approached the hallway. At the end of the hall, in front of the bathroom, lay a single red rose. Blair picked it up and saw that there was a note attached. He strained to read the writing. 

"I'm sorry for not saying thank you for saving me from the garbage truck." 

Blair frowned. "Jim?" he called again. Again there was movement in the shadows, but no answer. He went to the shadow and found another rose. The note attached said: 

"Thank you for calming me and convincing me that I could tell the difference between the ashes." 

Another movement, another rose, another note. 

"I'm sorry I made you go after that bird's nest. I know you hate heights." 

"Jim? Come on, love. Where are you?" 

Movement. Soft rustle. Soft click. 

Blair followed the sounds to the doors of his study and picked up the rose he found. 

"Come and Be Loved." 

Blair sucked in a ragged breath when he recognized the words from his invitation. "Oh god," he whispered. 

He opened the door and stepped inside. There was a single candle on the floor, barely lighting the room. He couldn't see much, but he could tell that the room was filled with roses, each with a note attached. Roses, but no Jim. 

Then suddenly, he was surrounded. Jim held him tightly and spoke gently in his ear. "I love you, baby. Please let me show you." 

Blair turned and looked up at the man who held him. "Jim?" was all he managed to get out before his lips were stilled by Jim's soft touch. 

"Shh, love. Let me show you." 

He leaned down and gently took his guide's mouth. It was a gentle, first awareness kind of meeting. It held the promise of things to come. Just as their first kiss had so long ago. The one that followed robbed Blair of his breath and Jim of his soul...all of the soul he'd gained back lately. But that essential part of him belonged to the gentle man in his arms and he willingly let it go. 

"Jim, take me upstairs." Blair breathed when they parted. 

Jim saw the love in his eyes when Blair looked up, but he wanted to give him more than that. He wanted to show Blair everything he meant to him and he could only do that here. 

"No, baby." 

He took Blair by the hand and led him to the corner where he'd placed several quilts and pillows on the floor. He picked up one of the roses he'd placed on the pillows and gave it to his love. The note attached read: 

"For brushing you aside when you only want to help me." 

Jim reached for the second rose and read the words allowed: 

"For staying by my side and becoming who I want you to be at the expense of who you are." 

"This is where we should be, Blair. You've given me everything and I want to give it back. Here, in your space, your world." 

Blair was silent and the tears threatened to flow again when Jim smiled and pulled him close. Jim took a deep breath and breathed in the scent of his lover's hair. 

The action reminded Blair of the flowers. 

"Jim! All the roses. Man, this has got to be killing you..." 

His words were cut off by another kiss. "It's handled, love. No guiding tonight. This is about you, not me." 

"But there's so many of them Jim." 

"Yeah, I know. One for every time I gave you a hard time about my senses or treated you badly because I was out of control or every time I didn't even bother to say thank you. I hope you won't hold any I forgot against me, there are so many. You know something though? It wasn't that tough to remember. I guess my conscious has been keeping a detailed list. I love you forever, Chief." 

With those words, he gently laid them down and made love to Blair thoroughly and completely. 

* * *

Sometime later, Blair lay curled around Jim. He noticed the sky beginning to lighten and he gently rolled away from Jim and got up. He walked around the loft and extinguished those candles that hadn't already gone out, then began the task he'd been holding back from since he'd walked into his study. 

He tried to be quiet and to his amazement, Jim slept through it all. When he was finished he went to the kitchen and started the coffee. He'd just lay down in front of his mate, snuggling into the arms that parted automatically for him in their sleep, when Jim stirred. 

"Blair?" 

"Right here, love." Blair pulled one of the hands encircling him and kissed it. 

"What'd ya do with the flowers?" Jim asked, looking up at him with sleepy, content eyes. 

The younger man turned in his arms and smiled. "Relax, they're on the balcony. Minus the notes of course, I still have to go through those." He wriggled his eyebrows wickedly. Jim smiled and closed his eyes again. 

"I thought we agreed that you weren't guiding tonight. At all," he said a bit sternly. 

"It isn't night anymore, goofy. The sun's coming up, and we'd better too, if we want to get to work on time." Blair stood up and reached to give Jim a hand up. "No work today." Jim mumbled sleepily. "Called Simon last night." 

"Really? Man, that is so cool. What'd he say?" He frowned suddenly, then before Jim could answer, he continued. "What'd you say?" 

"Come'ere," Jim slurred, tugging on his guide's hand until he was laying beside him. "I said not to expect me. If things went well, I wouldn't be able to work today. If they didn't, I wouldn't be able to work today." Blair laughed and snuggled in. "Or tomorrow, or next week. Not until we worked everything out," he finished seriously. 

For a fraction of an instant, Blair debated whether he should tell Jim just how close he'd come to not coming back. Instead he decided to change the subject. 

"You want some breakfast?" 

"Only if it's you." 

"I think I can handle that order." 

* * *

When I woke up several hours later, Jim was in the shower. I thought about   
joining him, but the Spring morning called to me. I pulled on a pair of shorts   
and headed out to the balcony, my treasures in hand. Settling in the lounge   
chair surrounded by my roses, I faced the morning sun and began to read.  
The first note I picked out read:

I'm sorry for trying to chase you away when I went on my fishing trip. 

`Wow' was all I could say. 

The second read: 

For Maya 

Funny, no hurt there anymore. 

I selected another. 

I'm sorry for not tearing Gustavo and his men to pieces when they threatened to burn your beautiful hands. 

I reached up to wipe away the tears I knew were falling. My heart was breaking again, but I was determined to read every last one of Jim's words. 

* * *

He's been out there for at least half an hour. When I came out of the shower, I saw him and suddenly wished that I was a painter instead of a cop. It's funny how love and second chances change how you look at your world; how they color your view making the ordinary into something born to be captured forever on canvas. He's curled up in the lounge chair, the flowers creating the backdrop and the morning sun, a spotlight highlighting the shine of his curls and the crystal trails trickling down his cheeks. Maybe it would never make it to canvas, but the image will forever be painted on my soul. 

It had made me feel ten feet tall to know that I'd made the right choice in doing this for Blair. But now I know it isn't about choices anymore because I have only one: Blair needs, I respond. End of story. 

* * *

Jim came out on the balcony and kissed his lover gently. "Good morning, sweetheart." 

He moved away from Blair and picked up the bottom edge of the lounge chair and moved it over a few feet. Blair looked up, watching as Jim brought him a breakfast tray and set it on the chair next to his feet. Then he went back inside. He reappeared moments later with the blankets from the study. Laying them out beside the chair, he pulled off his shirt and laid down on his stomach. With his head pillowed on his arms, Jim drifted off to sleep. 

Blair unconsciously reached down and lightly stroked the short soft hair. 

* * *

An hour later, Jim slowly opened his eyes to find Blair sitting on the blanket beside him, watching him. He looked into those eyes and was lost. The need in the voice showed him the way home. "Make love to me." 

"Yes." 

Jim pulled him on top of him and wrapped himself as far around Blair as humanly possible. He carded his fingers through the long strands surrounding his face and instinctively drew his hands into fists, clutching tightly as if Blair might try to escape at any moment. He drew that beautiful face down and took his mouth fiercely. Blair's desperation matched his own. 

They pulled apart, struggling for breath, and Blair raggedly whispered, "Upstairs, Mine. Please." 

Jim surged upward and carried his mate to their bed. He pulled off Blair's shorts, staring in fascination when the erect cock sprang forth. He felt his own jump and in seconds, his shorts were off and they lay together, skin to skin. Blair rolled them over and began to move against him, their erections rubbing together; it quickly became fast and heavy. Jim looked up into the face of the man lost in passion. His eyes were closed and his bottom lip was caught between his teeth. Sweat was breaking out on his forehead and he was becoming incoherent. Nothing could ever be as erotic as his Blair lost in the throws of passion. 

He let his fingers trail down his lover's cleft, while the other hand gently spread the muscled cheeks. He paused the entrance to Blair's body and pressed against the pucker. He was shocked to find his lover already open and lubed. The man arched wildly in response, driving the cocks closer together. Jim let out a sharp sound and pushed his finger into his body. Blair moved faster, rocking himself against the invader. He added a second, then third, just to feel the intamacy, as Blair began to moan. His words thrust out in time to their movements and Jim caught them as they were hurled across time and space. 

"Exploding...catch me...shattering...million pieces..." Blair's orgasm violently shook him when Jim stroked his prostate, sending his seed onto his lover's stomach and chest. 

Blair collapsed on his mate, feeling as though he could melt into the man below him. Jim seemed inclined to help him do just that because he removed his fingers from his body and pulled him close, waiting patiently. 

When Blair recovered some of his breath, he pushed up on his elbows and looked deeply into Jim's eyes. 

"Put me back together." Then he lifted himself off the aroused body and lay on his stomach. 

Jim gave him an `Oh my god' look and reached for the lube. He squeezed a generous amount on his fingers and covered his cock. Placing the tip against the relaxed opening, Jim leaned over and kissed Blair as he entered him. He only thrust four or five times before his own climax overtook him and he came with a cry of "Blair." His turn to melt into the other man's skin. 

"I love you, Jim." 

"I love you, Blair. No words to say how much." 

* * *

Morning turned into the rest of the day. Now here we sit, on the beach, watching the sunset. It's been an incredible day, beyond anything I could have hoped for. How could I have ever let myself do so much damage? They say you only hurt the ones you love. I say that's a crock. Hurting is easy. You have to work at staying in love, work at keeping yourselves together. It's an act of discipline sometimes, but it can be done. 

I listen to the sound of his heart beating in my ears, as I lean against his chest. It's strong and happy. It soothes me and reminds me of how lucky I am, how close I came to losing everything. 

He asked me today why I wrote all those notes. I think he already knew, but needed to here it from me. I wrote them because he needed to know that I know just how deeply I've hurt him. He needed to have the chance to forgive me before he began to hate me. I can't promise him I'll never be a jerk again, but I can promise to listen more closely. 

As the last edge of the sun slides beyond the horizon, I gather his arms around me even tighter and send up one final prayer of thanks. 

* * *

Morning turned into the rest of the day. Now here we sit, on the beach, watching the sunset. It's been an incredible day, beyond anything I could have hoped for. I still can't believe Jim went to so much trouble to make me feel like a person instead of a door stop. Well, I guess what I really can't believe is how everything suddenly clicked into place for him. Would I really leave him? I can't say for sure anymore. Last night I was ready, but I suppose that doesn't matter now. Or does it? Maybe I needed a chance to forgive him. 

One of his notes said that I'd become who he wanted instead of who I was. Are they really two different things? We are who we are. No one can truly be who they want themselves to be because we're touched, influenced, and shaped by those around us. Maybe it's a Guide thing, but who I am can never be separate from who he is or what he wants. Just as he's been molded by who I am and what I want. I guess what's really important is that he sees me, knows me, and knows that I'll always be there. 

As the last edge of the sun slides beyond the horizon, he gathers my arms closer around him and I send up one final prayer of thanks. 

* * *

Epilog 

They stepped off the elevator of Friday morning only fifteen minutes late. Jim could almost feel the eyes on them, could almost feel the grins that spread around the room. He looked over at his friend-for-life and pasted on his best shit-eatin' grin--his `Yes I'm in love and I don't care who knows it' smile. To the world it said "You think you know why we're late? Well, you know what? 

You're right." 

Beside him, Blair shook his head and smiled. 

the end. 

* * *

End 

Somewhere Other Than The Night by OCONN: j804gdt@sbcglobal.net  
Author and story notes above.

Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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